'Mademoiselle!' I replied, baffled and repelled. 'What do you mean?'
'What I say,' she answered, flippantly. 'But it was to be expected.'
'For shame!' I cried, provoked almost beyond bearing by her ill-timed raillery, 'will you never be serious until you have ruined us and yourself? I tell you this house is not safe for you! It is not safe for me! I cannot bring my men to it, for there is not room for them. If you have any spark of consideration, of gratitude, therefore----'
'Gratitude!' she exclaimed, swinging her mask slowly to and fro by a ribbon, while she looked up at me as though my excitement amused her. 'Gratitude--'tis a very pretty phrase, and means much; but it is for those who serve us faithfully, M. de Marsac, and not for others. You receive so many favours, I am told, and are so successful at Court, that I should not be justified in monopolising your services.'
'But, mademoiselle--' I said in a low tone. And there I stopped. I dared not proceed.
'Well, sir,' she answered, looking up at me after a moment's silence, and ceasing on a sudden to play with her toy, 'what is it?'
'You spoke of favours,' I continued, with an effort. 'I never received but one from a lady. That was at Rosny, and from your hand.'
'From my hand?' she answered, with an air of cold surprise.
'It was so, mademoiselle.'
'You have fallen into some strange mistake, sir,' she replied, rousing herself, and looking at me indifferently. 'I never gave you a favour.'